Beyond the Mask II
by flanny-chan
Summary: A sequel to the original Beyond the Mask: A few years having passed, Jason and Erin are now married and are off on a new adventure in the city of Paris, where strange occurrences and disturbing nightmares are causing Jason to question whether or not Erik has really been laid to rest, or if Jason's arrival has somehow triggered something that only he can find a solution to.
1. Chapter 1

Light footsteps echoed around the theatre as Louis walked onto the stage, a damp rag hanging from one hand and the other holding a broom. The eighteen-year-old gazed out into the vast area, the velvet seats and carpets a bloody red in the poor lighting of the now closed auditorium. The arched ceiling, so high that the weak light could not touch the murals painted above, loomed over the theatre, and the chandelier sparkled faintly. Golden statues seemed to stare from their dark corners as Louis made his way across the stage, humming a tune to calm his nerves.

Louis never did like being alone at nighttime. When he took a job as a janitor the month before, he figured there would be plenty of others with jobs like his, whether they were sweeping up wrappers and crumbs left by the lazy ballet students or dusting off the levers offstage that controlled the curtains. The old Paris Opera House, now a Ballet school, was a big place; surely one man was not expected to do all the cleaning after hours. But judging by the pure silence, Louis was, in fact, alone that night…

…on his first late night shift, for that matter.

The young custodian sat down on the front edge of the stage and hopped down into the orchestra pit, a cloud of dust rising from where his shoes made contact with the cement floor. The pit was filthy that night. Some of the ballerinas decided to be rebels and have their lunch on stage in between practices, even when they were told not to do so. Every single spilled drop of beverage or crumb of food had fallen into the orchestra pit, as well as a couple of torn and clipped magazines and some poor girl's glasses.

Lazy, that's what they were. Louis thought this to himself as he wedged the now broken glasses into the pocket of his jeans and began sweeping the floor, stealing glances up at the stage to try to ease the feeling of being watched.

The swishing sounds of the broom and Louis's humming were the only obvious sounds in the theatre, but Louis could have sworn that he heard a sound lower in frequency, below the volume of his voice and the broom. He paused several times in his work to try and hear it more clearly, but all was dead silent. Finally, he heard what the sound was: humming. But it was not coming from him. Louis stayed absolutely still, holding his breath as the soft voice hummed a soothing melody. He could not tell where it was coming from, for the acoustics on stage could be tricky to decipher. There was not supposed to be anyone there – at least, not that Louis knew of – so he peeked his head up over the pit and peered onto the visibly empty stage.

"_Allô?_" he called, the humming stopping abruptly in the process.

Louis swallowed, a bit of sweat forming on his brow beneath his shaggy blonde hair. His eyes scanned the theatre around him. He was hoping to see something, anything, that would convince him that one of the other stagehands was there doing late night work, but everything was still. Louis called out one more time.

"_Qui est là?_ Who's there?" He stood still, listening. All of a sudden, he heard what sounded like faint footfall upon wooden floors from backstage. The steps were brisk, and they were becoming louder by the second. Louis immediately ducked his head beneath the stage and pressed his back to the cold stone wall, not daring to make a sound in case it was an intruder whom he addressed. A drop of sweat slowly slid down his face as the footsteps entered the stage area, drawing nearer to Louis's hiding place. He cursed himself for being a coward; what if it was just another worker? At the same time, he did not want to take any chances, fearing an intruder had entered the building in search of valuables.

Just before they reached the edge of the pit, the footsteps stopped. A good minute passed before Louis found the courage to turn and peer over the edge of the pit again, and when he did he saw nothing.

Louis slowly picked up his rag from its place on a nearby chair and heaved himself onto the stage, his eyes darting around in paranoia. What had he just heard? No one could have exited the stage that fast without making a sound. Now he was frightened. He quickly exited the stage and jogged out into the well-lit gallery area, shutting and locking the doors behind him. He would explain the untidiness of the pit to his boss in the morning.

He descended the grand staircase to the front doors while pulling out his cell phone to check the time: eleven-twenty-nine at night. He sighed heavily, already having calmed down after his strange experience and ready to hit the sack. He glanced up at the front doors and stopped midway down the steps. The outline of a man standing outside the front doors could be seen. He looked to be wearing some kind of brimmed hat and a cloak. Louis cocked an eyebrow. What would someone be doing dressed like that in front of the building?

Louis began descending the stairs again, determined to see what this stranger wanted, but he stopped again when he realized something about the shadowy form.

It was on the _inside_ of the doors.

Louis froze and felt his heart thumping loudly within his chest. The shape not only blocked out light coming from the street, but the metal handles and the emblems on the glass of the door were also darkened significantly. Louis's eyes widened as he began backing up the stairs, reaching for his cell phone again so that he was ready to call the police.

A pair of yellow eyes appeared where the figure's face should have been, and Louis was barely able to utter a cry of fear before the shadow rushed at him.


	2. Chapter 2

Airports. It seemed that they were always packed with people, no matter where in the world you were or what time of year it was. Plus, it was summer; people were either visiting family, taking vacations, or returning from either of the two, so the throngs of people packed into most of the waiting areas and food courts were to be expected.

For Jason Marcel, however, it was a whole different atmosphere than what he was used to.

After only a year or so of becoming a public person and seeking to establish his own life, Jason had begun publishing some of his music and earning a strong reputation in the musical world. People, of course, had been wary of him at first, but like all new and unusually things that people paid mind to, Jason later became old news in a world that was forever changing, which was exactly what he had hoped would happen. He still received strange looks from people on the streets, but he had gotten used to it just as the world had seemed to get used to him. Erin had been right; this planet was not as begrudgingly judgmental of unusual things or people as his mother had made it out to be for all those years.

Almost three years had gone by now, and someone had actually taken a strong enough interest in Jason that he was actually invited to cross borders to be a part of a large project in Paris - _Paris_, of all places. Jason had tried to imagine what the grand city would be like ever since reading _The Phantom of the Opera_, the book that had contributed to the start of this new chapter in his life. He had seen numerous pictures and read several descriptions of the French capital, but he had a feeling that nothing would compare to actually being there, in person, experiencing the city for himself. The best part had been that Erin was allowed to accompany him as a guest.

Erin, the person whom he had known and trusted the longest, and who had eventually stolen his heart, was someone he could not imagine making any sort of trip without. They had been married just over a year now, and the correlation between the timing of their trip and their single year anniversary could not have been better - a late gift from a complete stranger was what it was, it seemed.

Jason nudged his way through immense crowds of travelers, muttering sincere apologies while receiving a few dirty looks that soon melted into wide eyes and whispers, all of which were ignored with ease. He glanced over his shoulder at Erin, who was following close behind, and reached for her hand so as to not be separated from her in the bustle. His florescent yellow eyes searched the area for a clear, people-free spot in which to set down their luggage and relax after the eight-hour flight.

"Well," Erin sighed as they planted themselves in a couple of seats in an almost empty waiting area, "What did you think of your first flight?"

Jason made a face, and Erin laughed. "I'll take it that you didn't enjoy it. That's okay; my first flight wasn't very pleasant, either."

Jason sat up in the front of his seat and rubbed his lower back. "But I doubt your first flight was eight hours long."

Erin only giggled in response and leaned her head against his shoulder, weaving her arm around his. Jason smiled, his discomfort melting away in an instant at the gesture as he kissed the top of Erin's head.

The couple was supposed to be meeting a woman named Celine at the airport, who was going to be their chaperone for their two weeks in Paris. She had sent Erin a message on her cell phone shortly before the plane landed, saying that something came up and that she would be a little late picking them up. Celine had exchanged emails with the Marcels, but otherwise they had not met face to face yet.

After a half hour wait, Jason was beginning to worry that this woman would ever show up, let alone find them in this heavily populated airport. Erin seemed confident enough, but the trip itself had left Jason with a strong sense of worry and paranoia.

"She'll show up," Erin reassured her husband, placing her hand in his and squeezing it gently.

Being there was strange enough as it was; many of the native people who passed by seemed to think that Jason had no idea what they were saying, being from America, and they would openly talk about him in curiosity while he was but feet away from them. After having studied the French language on the side of composing, he was familiar enough with it to both be able to speak a little and understand what people were saying, but he was not annoyed as most others would be when in that kind of situation; he actually found it rather amusing. At one point, an older woman and her husband sat down a few seats away from Jason and Erin, and the woman began to repeatedly glance at Jason from out of the corner of her eye. It was not long before she pointed him out to her husband and began chatting about him…quite loudly. Jason, giving Erin a mischievous grin, began talking to her in French, saying how beautiful the weather was and what a funny hat that woman had on. The look on the woman's face was priceless, and even Erin gave a snort.

It was not long before the old couple left – quite hurriedly – and another woman was seen scampering towards the waiting area. Erin had been the first to see her, and she pulled herself and Jason from their silent laughter so as to behold her strange appearance. The woman could not have been much shorter than Erin, but she was otherwise very petite. Her boy-cut hair was died a dark, reddish burgundy, and a pair of large hoops dangled from her dainty ears. She wore a simple outfit composed of jeans and a t-shirt with some French band's emblem adorning the front, and her sneakers began squeaking once she reached the tiled floor of the waiting area. She was not exceptionally young, thirty years at least, but her outfit and size could definitely fool anyone looking at her from afar.

"_Monsieur!_" she called out.

Jason and Erin glanced about, wondering who it was she could be calling to. There certainly were some nearby who glanced at the wayward woman, but none seemed to acknowledge her as somebody they knew. It was then that Jason looked up and realized that she was talking to _him_.

"Monsieur!" the woman stopped directly in front of the couple, pausing to catch her breath and quickly tucking her hair behind both ears. She smiled and stuck out her hand towards Jason, who only looked at it, startled. Erin raised her eyebrows.

"Um, I'm sorry, Madame," Erin said, "But…do we know you?"

The woman stared for a moment, then let out a laugh. "Oh, pardon me! I forgot to introduce myself!" She folded her hands together and cleared her throat. She was obviously not a French native, for she spoke with a strong British accent. "My name is Celine, and I will be your tour guide for the duration of your visit!"

Jason and Erin exchanged smiles. They should have known that this was Celine; anyone who was looking for Jason in an airport would have no trouble spotting him. Erin shook Celine's hand, and Jason followed suit.

Celine had been in the tourist chaperoning business for several years. She was definitely an eccentric person to behold. Not only was her attire pretty relaxed for someone of her occupation – and someone of her age, for that matter – but her energy was remarkable for the same reasons listed. She walked with a spring in her step as the trio exited the waiting room and weaved their way through more sets of crowds and began chatting almost nonstop.

"So, where is it you too are from?" Celine enquired as they walked down a set of stairs leading towards the main lobby area.

"Emmett, South Dakota," Jason stated, watching with amusement as Celine practically jumped from the third to last step to the ground.

"Oh, Midwest people, are you?" The pair nodded. "I've taken a couple of trips there before – very lovely region, especially Iowa! All those fields and rolling hills…reminds me of the patch of land my uncle owns back in the UK…"

Erin loved a chatty person to engage with, of course, but it was mind-boggling how little Erin could actually get a word in unless it was a short answer to a question. Whenever the artist opened her mouth to say something, Celine would cut in with either "That reminds me of…" or "I have a relative that…" Erin would only shake her head and smile at Jason, who was also tickled by the woman's chattiness.

They eventually reached the vehicle and took off towards the city. Jason stared out the window, the feeling of being there in Paris still surreal. His mind reeled with all the things he would get the chance to see and do. He did not yet know where he would be stationed most of the time in the process of correlating with other writers and the director, whom he had yet to meet. He knew, for certain, that he would get to be inside the Paris Opera, which was the most exciting thing about this trip for him besides composing alongside other writers for the first time. Erin, meanwhile, would be allowed to do what she pleased as Jason was in conference with the other directors, whether it be touring the building in which they were in or chatting with Celine, who also offered herself as company for her clients. It would not be much of a vacation, since Jason would be devoting much of his time on the project ahead, but it was exciting all the same.

"I hate to ask, Celine," Erin enquired of their driver, taking advantage of a brief moment of silence. "But about you being a little late earlier…there wasn't anything the matter, was there?"

Celine waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no, I don't mind you asking." She paused, then took on a more calmed tone than her usually chipper voice. "But it was rather a strange thing that caused me to be late. You see, my nephew, Louis, works at the Paris Opera. Anyway, he had his first night shift last night. No big deal, really, until they found him huddled in a ball on the grand staircase the next morning when the manager arrived…Apparently he had been there since almost midnight."

"Oh my gosh," Erin breathed and she and Jason exchanged glances. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Celine continued. "Just shaken. He claims he was attacked by a ghost…"

"A…ghost?" Jason uttered.

"…and the police just think he was drinking, or something…but _I_ know better." Celine paused to turn a corner, then continued. "Number one, my nephew does not drink – never has, and hopefully never will. Number two, he's about as sane as any nineteen year-old can be. Sure, he's a bit rambunctious – and he's also afraid of being alone in the dark - but his head is as clear as day, so I don't know what he could have seen." She looked at Jason's reflection in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Might have been the infamous Opera Ghost, I've heard talk about."

Jason became a bit stiff, but he managed a weak smile back. The Opera Ghost…as in the Phantom of the Opera? Impossible. Even if there was some sort of paranormal activity in the Paris Opera, it does not mean that it's the Phantom; it could purely be coincidence. At the same time, Jason could not help but wonder. And as he turned to look at Erin, he could tell that she had the same thoughts, but both tried dismissing their wonderings as the vehicle rounded the next corner.


	3. Chapter 3

After about twenty minutes of driving, lengthened due to the choked traffic in certain areas, Celine pulled into the drive of l'Opéra Nationale de Paris, or Pallais Garnier, as some still liked to call it. Jason craned his neck to look out of the window and catch a glimpse of the enormous building. Its intricately carved stone façade stood tall and proud against the backdrop of clear blue sky, and the golden statues of various gods and goddesses perched atop the roof seemed to be reaching up towards the heavens, yearning to return to their divine homes in the clouds. The afternoon sun gleamed off of their metallic forms in the most beautiful way, Jason thought, as vehicle found a suitable parking space among the various cars of staff members and visitors.

"Well, here we are!" Celine remarked as her backseat passengers gazed out the windows in awe of the magnificent building. She turned off the engine and opened her door; Jason and Erin did the same.

The inside of the structure was a whole different story. Through the glass front doors, Jason found himself in an interior that was even more ornate than the exterior. The creamy linoleum floors were polished to perfection, and the high, domed ceilings were held by massive pillars on the edges of the grand staircase that stretched upwards to the second level. The edges of the staircase were lined by the occasional golden statue, similar to the ones that were on the roof of the Opera. The walls and ceilings were adorned with an array of wallpapers, paintings, and gold trimmings where the bottom of the wall met the floor. In all, the sight was breathtaking.

Jason shifted his vision over to Erin, who seemed just as impressed as he was. A ghost of a smile played upon her lips as she tilted her head up and around, taking in as many details as she could with her large, dark eyes. She absently tucked some of her chestnut, side swept bangs behind her ear and exhaled softly, catching Jason's gaze and beaming with excitement for the time they would be spending in the well-renown building.

There were a few people milling about in the main hall of the Opera, either members of maintenance or early visitors. One of which, a distinguished-looking man in a suit and tie, was making his way down the steps; his graying brown hair was combed neatly to the side, and his kind, blue eyes were shaded underneath thick eyebrows. Accompanying him was a young man in his late teens with messy blonde hair and wide, shifty gray eyes. If one were to give him a second glance, one would think the boy had witnessed something horrible, or else had drunk too much coffee, for his eyes were wide open, darting about the room as he listened to the man speak. Suddenly, the boy gazed in their direction and broke out running down the stairs two steps at a time, leaving the man behind him in a state of surprise.

"Celine!" he cried, jumping down the last three steps and skidding to a halt in front of the bewildered tour guide. "You're here!"

"Louis!" Celine stared at the boy incredulously. "Well, yes I am here, but…what are _you_ doing here? I thought you would have been home by now!"

Louis replied, his French accent evident in his speech. "I was at home, but my manager called and wanted to speak with me…" he glanced over his shoulder at the man walking briskly down the stairs. "He wanted to know more about…you know…what I saw last…"

Louis trailed off, having noticed that he and his aunt were not alone. His eyes fell on the young couple standing a short distance behind Celine, mainly focused on Jason. The boy tensed up, alarmed, and moved closer to his aunt. He looked like he was on the verge of panic as his wide eyes fixated themselves on the masked man, who greatly resembled the being he had encountered the other night save the fact that this person looked less menacing in his modern clothing and harmless demeanor. At this point, he looked much younger than eighteen as he began fidgeting next to his aunt. "Who…W-who is that?"

Celine glanced at the couple. Smiling, she brought her arm around Louis's shoulders and eased him around to face Jason and Erin.

"This," she said to her quivering nephew, "is Mr. and Mrs. Marcel. They are clients of mine from America."

Jason could still sense the fear in the boy's eyes, which was understandable. This was Celine's nephew, the one who had recently been given a big scare; it was not surprising that he would be so uncomfortable about seeing Jason at this point in time. Smiling in the friendliest manner possible, Jason tried to ease Louis's discomfort to the best of his abilities. Sociality still was not his forte, but being with Erin and her family had strengthened that side of him, so he was no longer as timid and awkward as he was when he had first begun meeting new people.

"Hello," Jason greeted, extending his slender, discolored hand, "My name is Jason. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Louis flinched as the hand came towards him, eyeing it with suspicion and pressing closer to Celine like a frightened adolescent. He looked at Celine, then up at Jason again. His facial features seemed to soften, evidently finding zero signs of malice in the black-haired man's kind expression. A slight tremor was still felt by Jason as Louis's quivering hand made contact with his own, but his fear seemed to have melted, and relief had washed away most doubt of Jason's legitimacy as a non-imposing figure. Erin, having been watching with anxiety at the situation, finally relaxed. With how the boy was holding up, she half expected him to take off running in another direction instead of shaking hands with her husband.

"Hello," Louis half-mumbled. "I-I am sorry for reacting how I did. It was rude of me."

Jason smiled. "That's alright. None taken."

Louis managed a weak smile as the sharply-dressed man who had been conversing with him earlier approached the group. He held himself in a very dignified manor, his posture and pressed suit practically flawless. His freshly shaven chin was tilted upward slightly, giving the appearance of someone who thought very highly of themselves. He cleared his throat, making every head turn in his direction. The man raised an eyebrow at a sheepish Louis before addressing the rest of the group.

"_Bonjour_," he began in a distinguished voice, his accent seeping through his refined English as he continued. "I am Jacques Grosjean, director of the Palais Garnier." He looked at Jason, his eyes seeming to search him for a split second before addressing him. "You must be Monsieur Marcel."

Jason suddenly felt uncomfortable under M. Grosjean's scrutinizing gaze. He had not felt such a weighing pressure from someone looking at him for a long time; there was something oddly intimidating about how the man seemed to look down upon him, even though Jason was a good inch or two taller than him.

Regardless, Jason cleared his throat and tried his best to appear calm and collected with the stone-hard manager. "Um…Yes, sir. Jason…Jason Marcel." He extended his hand.

"I prefer formal titles," M. Grosjean stated plainly without giving Jason's offered greeting a second glance.

"Oh…sorry, sir." Jason withdrew his hand, smoothing the side of his shirt awkwardly in an unconscious effort to undo his previous gesture.

The stuffy manager shifted his gaze over to Erin. "And who might this be?"

Erin glanced at Jason, her eyes seeming to question whether or not the man and his regal airs were for real, before turning back to the director with a forced smile. "I'm Erin Marcel…his wife."

The director raised an eyebrow, similarly to when he had done so to Louis, and made a small sound of acknowledgment before turning to Celine. Erin frowned at the director and turned her head to face Jason, wrinkling her nose in distaste. Jason stifled a laugh as they drew their attention back to the director, who was currently addressing Celine.

"If you will excuse me," Grosjean said, motioning to Louis, "I must continue speaking with your nephew. You may take these two to Monsieur Bontemps' office so that Monsieur Marcel may learn what needs to be done and begin his work immediately." He glanced at the couple again before leading Louis off to continue their previous conversation. Celine stared off after them for a few seconds before remembering her clients and turning towards them. Seeming to read their minds, she snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Mr. Gross Jeans over there is definitely something to get used to when working around here…Be glad you're only here for a couple weeks!"

Celine motioned for Jason and Erin to follow her as she began walking and ascending the grand staircase. Once at the stop, she turned right and down a long corridor lined with various wooden doors, most with labels or signs on their smooth surfaces and brass knobs. The lighting was dimmer in this area than it was in the main foyer, and the dark wallpaper made the already narrow hallway feel even more cramped. Jason was not one who enjoyed tight spaces, but he was not claustrophobic. Even so, this particular area had a pressing sensation on his chest cavity, and Jason felt as though the area itself was just plain eerie. He did not like it. Erin felt completely fine, admiring the woodwork of the doors and reading the various signs as they passed them. A worried line formed between her brows when she noticed her husband's slight discomfort, and she placed her hand on his arm. Weaving his arm through hers, he smiled at her with reassurance, believing that perhaps the creepiness he felt radiating from every doorway was all in his head; Erin did not seem effected, so it must be.

They passed at least twenty doors before Celine stopped and knocked on one that was on the left side, labeled _M. Philippe Bontemps_.

"_Entrez!_" a clear, masculine voice called from behind the door. "Come in!"

Celine turned the brass knob and pushed open the door, revealing a large yet messy office. Besides the massive, oaken desk that sat at the far end of the room, piled with papers and folders of all kinds, the room was fairly sparse. There was a recliner in one corner, accompanied by a table and a lamp, but that was it. A trash bin overflowing with crumpled up papers and pencil shavings sat under the sill of the one window that was in the room, which had its sheer curtains drawn shut.

A man sat at the desk, busily scribbling down notes on a notepad. He looked to be about the same age as Celine, perhaps a little younger. He wore a pair of slacks and a dress shirt that had its first few buttons undone. His dark hair was disheveled, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck. He looked very muddled, but at least he appeared clean.

The man turned in his swivel chair, revealing a pair of shocking green eyes and a wide, toothy smile that revealed deep laugh lines in his cheeks. He stood and walked briskly over to the trio, the unshaven stubble on his chin and face becoming visible as he came closer. He immediately began spewing French, talking rapidly as he grabbed Jason's hand and gave it a firm shake. Jason and Erin looked on in bewilderment as Celine burst out laughing and placed a hand on the excitable man's shoulder, drawing his attention and ceasing his ramble.

"They're American, Phil, remember?" Celine laughed. "They speak _English_, not French."

The man let go of Jason's hand and laughed himself, patting Jason's shoulder and sporting an embarrassed grin.

"I am sorry, Monsieur," he apologized. "I sometimes get so excited that I forget my English!" He chuckled heartily, his booming laugh a contrast to his slim form. "I am Philippe Bontemps, if you did not understand me earlier, guest composer here at le Palais Garnier, but most call me Phil. I must say, Monsieur, that I am a BIG fan of your work!"

Jason grinned, amused by the Phil's loud and jovial personality, and flattered that he was noticed by someone so far from home. "Thank you, sir, and it's no problem. Besides, I do happen to know some French, so…"

Phil's eyes lit up, and his grin became wider. "Ah! You know my language? How good! I am afraid I am not the best at speaking English, so you must forgive me. But, oh, how relieved I am that some of my rambling will make some sense!"

Jason laughed along with Phil, glad to meet someone likable - and a composer, at that. Phil and he were probably going to be working together on the same project, and Jason could already tell that they were going to be fast friends.

As the two men became conversing about music, the opera, and sorts, Celine placed her hand on Erin's shoulder and steered them both back towards the door. "Well, we will see you two later then! _Chao_!"

Erin chuckled as Celine slid the door shut, another bout of laughter courtesy of Phil erupting from the other side. Celine place her hands on her slim hips and shook her head as Erin smirked.

"I sure like him better than that other guy," Erin remarked, causing Celine to giggle.

"I think that everyone here would second that." The two women chuckled as they walked back down the hallway from which they came. Erin thought back to M. Bontemps, noticing similarities between him and her twin brother back home.

"You know, Mr. Bontemps almost reminds me of my brother, Rory."

Celine took interest. "You have a brother? How wonderful! I had six growing up, but I won't delve too far into that…" she laughed before continuing. "What's he like? Older? Younger? Tell me."

Erin grinned as she imagined Rory, with his mischievousness, humor, and his genuine care for others. "He's my twin, actually…pretty much my best friend besides Jason, of course. He was always the rebellious one of the two of us, but he will do anything for the ones he cares about."

"Aw, how sweet!" Celine cooed. "You sure are lucky…my brothers were all so much older than me, and they were so _boring_." She emphasized the last word and stuck out her tongue. "All of them either became teachers or doctors…but yours is probably much more interesting!"

"Oh, he can be," Erin grinned. "He's an assistant coach for football back in our hometown, and he just proposed to his girlfriend last…"

Erin stopped dead in her tracks, her words trailing off at the same moment. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as Erin whipped her head around to follow a shadow that had seemed to dart from one doorway to another, disappearing as soon as her eyes focused on where it was.

"What's the matter?"

Erin turned to face Celine, then shook her head. She had been experiencing dizziness lately, probably due to lack of sleep in anticipation for the trip here to Paris, so her vision was probably just playing tricks on her. There was absolutely nothing there, and she was just paranoid and needed rest. Erin looked at Celine, who wore a confused expression, and smiled.

"Oh, it's nothing," Erin reassured, waving a hand dismissively, "Nothing at all."


	4. Chapter 4

Jason's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly in the dark of the hotel room. He took a few deep breaths, raising his hand to press against his moist forehead. He blinked a few times before relaxing his tensed up muscles and turning his head to look at Erin, who was still fast asleep and unaware of another of Jason's sudden awakenings; there had been at least three similar occurrences that night, and the night before was no different.

The last two days had gone almost perfectly, as far as Jason was concerned. After meeting Phil and getting caught up in an intriguing conversation, the business process finally ensued. Jason had not initially expected to be writing in a partnership at all, nor was he entirely comfortable with the idea, but once he had begun hearing Phil's ideas and enthusiasm over the storyline of the new ballet, Jason was both impressed and inspired. Never before had he encountered someone as ingrained in his work as M. Bontemps. It was apparent he was brilliant, despite the chaos of his office. "I have a hurricane of ideas in my mind almost constantly…this is just the result," is what Phil had told Jason.

They had worked almost all day, each day, ignoring lunchtime both times. The only breaks they took were to tell and listen to each other's theories and ideas, or just to chat about each other's lives. Phil was shockingly relaxed and accepting when it came to Jason's "deformity," referring to it no differently as would one refer to a leg cast or a small scar. Phil was a bit forward at times, but Jason found that he did not mind; Phil had the vibe and personality of someone who could be trusted. The second day, of course, was a bit more difficult due to Jason's fatigue, but Phil's patience and energy lifted the composer's spirit. Celine and Erin would stop by towards the end of the day, and the three would do some sightseeing before having a late dinner and returning to the hotel near ten. Once Jason and Erin were dropped off at their hotel, they had no trouble retiring to bed to rest their tired limbs and drooping eyelids.

Jason, however, could not seem to stay asleep.

He was plagued with nightmares of inexplicable origin. His day had been, by his standards, fantastic albeit a stuffy manager and a rough first flight, so he could not understand why he was having these disturbing dreams. They were mainly of a man, dressed in black, who was visibly frustrated to a great degree. His deformed mouth would be contorted into a scream, the rest of his face either hidden by some sort of mask or nonexistent altogether – Jason could not tell. He would point to something to his left, continuing to silently scream at Jason to look at something, but Jason could not find the strength to turn his gaze from this man. The confusion and discomfort of the situation would become too much, and Jason would then force himself awake.

Gently, Jason swung his lanky legs over the side of the bed and stood. In the dim light, he could see the partially unpacked bags, still lying on the floor near foot of the bed. He stepped carefully around them, taking care not to make a sound and wake Erin. He made his way to the bathroom and stepped inside, not bothering to flip on the light switch.

The dim reflection of his blank, tired face gazed back at him from the mirror. Now that he thought of it, it had been a long time since he had really taken a look at himself and studied his own features - his absent nose, sunken cheeks, glowing eyes, et cetera. He was used to it, of course, but after the stressful dreams, something seemed off. It was as if he were some other person at this moment in time, gazing at himself and wondering how they had been cursed with such a grotesque complexion. He could almost hear the ghost of voices, sneering and cowering in his wake, but who they were and where they came from, Jason did not know. The effect they had, however, seemed all too familiar.

Jason shook his head and turned away. The clock above the sink read 5:03 a.m.; it was early, and the changing of time zones from the flight had cost both Jason and Erin hours of rest. He was still half asleep and unable to make clear, comprehensible thoughts. He knew that the thoughts entering his mind were ludicrous, most likely resulting from the nightmares, but they were still haunting.

He heard movement from within the hotel room, and he leaned over to peer out the doorway. Erin was sitting up, her fists balled and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She blinked and looked up at the silhouette of her husband, smiling tiredly.

"I thought I felt you get up," she whispered as Jason made his way over and took a seat on the edge of the bed. "More dreams?"

Jason nodded, a yawn escaping in the process. Erin sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed so that they were parallel to Jason's. She scooted closer and leaned against him, her loose hair spilling over his shoulder. Jason cradled her in his arm, letting his chin rest atop her head.

"They started so suddenly," Erin remarked, her voice still hoarse with sleepiness. "What could be the cause?"

Jason wish he knew. Yes, the reality of being in Paris was enough excitement to keep anyone awake, but at the end of each of the past couple days, he did not remember a time when he was so ready to sleep. The days had been both physically and mentally draining, but in a satisfying sort of way; there was no reason for his rest be so fitful and filled with twisted visions.

Visions – Jason sure hoped that this was not another instance such as that. The vision of Erin, given to him nearly seven years before he had even met her, was pure fate, and he could not have been happier that it happened, but this…this was of a completely different nature than the first. He could only hope that this was not another prophecy waiting to happen.

Another yawn escaped Jason's throat, and Erin only chuckled sleepily.

"Come on," she said, giving his sleeve a tug, "Try to get some more sleep. We have another two hours before we need to be up and around."

Jason nodded and slipped back under the covers, pausing to watch Erin rub at her temples with a scrunched up face. He knit his brows in concern.

"You okay?"

Erin only smiled and nodded. "I'm fine. I think I might be coming down with something...I've had a bit of nausea, too."

Jason smiled sympathetically and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and kissing her cheek. "Then you need rest just as much as I do."

Erin smiled and the couple settled back down into the pillows, Erin's head resting in the crook of Jason's arm. Erin's breath slowed and evened out within minutes, convincing Jason that she had fallen asleep successfully. Jason, however, did not have as much luck. He laid there, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling for answers that it was unable to give. He knew that he should not let these nightmares get to his head, even if they are some sort of omen, but he could not help but feel they were important, like they were meant for him specifically. Perhaps all he needed to do was ignore them, and exhaustion would eventually take hold of his subconscious and let him have a peaceful sleep.

But almost as soon as he closed his eyes, the face that haunted his thoughts was there, a burnt image on the back of his eyelids.

This was going to be a long two hours.


	5. Chapter 5

_ Silence. That was the first thing he noticed._

_ Then there was the pure pitch blackness of the space, along with a single candle suspended in the air, held by some unknown force. It was to be assumed that he himself was holding it, though the tiny flame hardly shed enough light to even lick the walls on either side of the narrow hallway, so his hand was probably shrouded in the darkness that obscured the bottom half of the candlestick._

_ He was moving along the corridor, moving with quick, even strides that hardly made a sound on the thin carpet. He knew his exact destination, and he was bent on arriving there as soon as possible so as to not be noticed by anybody who may still linger about the area. Where he was going was secretive, a sacred place known only to him. _

_ It was not long before a few familiar objects came into view, and he knew that he was nearing his destination._

_ "…What do you think, Jason?"_

_ There was a tapestry hanging from the wall, intricately woven to depict a famous scene from the Bible. The story itself was not important, though, for it was what was behind the large piece of cloth that held his interest._

_ "Jason?"_

_ The cloth parted seemingly by itself, revealing the wallpaper beneath. The sound of wood sliding on wood could be heard as a portion of the wall slid open. A faint, cool breeze caressed his skin as he stared into the depths of the opening…_

"Hellooooo? Earth to Jason!"

Jason jerked awake, his head sliding from its perch on his palm and nearly knocking his mask off his face. He quickly sat up and straightened the covering of his face and blinked rapidly to clear the spots from his vision. The first thing he noticed were the papers fluttering to the ground, having fallen from the desktop as his elbow slid across the surface during his awakening. Jason then took in the rest of his surroundings, finding himself sitting in Philippe's office. Phil, tilting his head to look at his partner, grinning as Jason came back into focus. The masked man looked sheepishly at the floor and began retrieving the fallen pieces of sheet music and notes as Phil chuckled and bent over to help him. Had he seriously dozed off…while composing? That was a first.

"Well, someone chose and interesting time for a powernap," Phil remarked kind-heartedly as he tapped a stack of papers against the desk to straighten them. "Was my idea really that…what's the word…_dull?_" He chuckled once again as Jason nearly dropped the stack he was currently holding.

"Oh no, no! I must have just, I mean…" The younger man sighed, setting down the music and messaging his temple. "I'm sorry, Phil. I've just been…having some trouble sleeping." He ended his statement with a yawn, earning a clicking of the tongue from Philippe.

"That is too bad," he remarked. "You know, I had suffered from what they called insomnia when I was younger."

Jason raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

Phil nodded. "Oh yes. It was awful. Only got maybe four hour of sleep in a week, at most. My mother was a homebody, you know? So she had me try all these different techniques for getting to sleep, and my insomnia disappeared after some time." He puffed out his chest and flexed and arm. "Been getting a good night's rest ever since then."

Jason smiled at the display. "So, what exactly caused you to lose sleep?"

Philippe shrugged his shoulders, returning to his original slouched position and running a hand through his tangled mess of hair. "Stress from school, overworking, parents going through a divorce…all sorts of things, you know?" He rested his hands behind his head, crossing his legs and smiled in reminiscence. "My mother would have me count sheep, drink warm milk before bed, read a book…the stereotypes, you see, and they actually worked for me!"

Jason nodded, and Phil noticed his expression drop a bit. "…Do know what is causing _you_ to lose sleep? Stress? Fears?"

"Well…no," Jason leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes to allow time to wake up a bit more before continuing. "Did your mother have any remedies for, I don't know…nightmares?"

Phil uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ah, so it is _nightmares_ that are bothering you." He blew air through his lips as he combed his fingers through his locks again. "I am afraid I never _had _many of those, Monsieur; and if I did, I did not lose sleep. My mother never had to lend me a hand with those."

"Oh." Jason yawned again, scolding himself for being so tired when he had serious work to attend to. He knew that it was not entirely his fault, but he felt that he was hampering progress with his sleepy antics, and that it was unfair to Phil and to the people of the Opera who had hired him.

"Tell you what." Phil flipped the folder that contained their project close, sliding it towards the back of the desk and out of their general workspace. He placed his right hand on one knee while the other cupped his chin. "Why don't you tell me about these night terrors of yours? We will take a little break, yes?"

Jason glanced at the sheet music. "But…"

"Butts are for sitting!" Phil interrupted, jutting his finger at Jason with a humorous smirk as he slid the papers further away, "Which is exactly what we must do now – sit and relax. If there is something you need to get off of your chest, do it now. I'm all ears."

Jason fumbled with his hands and shrugged. "I mean, it's not like there's anything wrong. Yes, I had a rough first flight over here, but I was over it quickly." He bit his lip briefly. "Of course, I can't say the same for Erin. She's still feeling a bit sick; we think she may have caught something our first day here at the Opera House, but…"

"So you are worried about your wife, is that it?"

"Well, her condition isn't serious…just a bit of nausea," Jason retorted. "But she has nothing to do with the dreams I'm having." He sighed. "I just feel…like something bad is going to happen. All of my dreams and visions are associated with this place, and I feel like everything is connected somehow." Jason wasn't sure why he hadn't put the pieces together before, but now that he was discussing his visions aloud, everything made a little more sense.

Phil made a humming noise to himself, narrowing his eyes in thought. "You know, there have been strange things happened since shortly before you arrived."

Jason's ears perked. "…there have?"

"Yes," Philippe confirmed. "You had to have heard about Celine's nephew, correct?" Jason nodded. "Well, he was the first to experience something, but he was not the only one."

Jason leaned forward with interest, and Phil continued.

"A few of our other cleaning ladies have claimed to have seen shadows while cleaning backstage, and there are strange noises that seem to some from above the auditorium when nobody is there." Phil shifted his eyes, glancing over his shoulder briefly. "I have not told anyone yet, but I have recently had an experience."

"You have?" Jason's fatigue seemed to have vanished for the time being as he listened.

Phil nodded, slowly this time. His untamed hair bobbed with the motion. "It was yesterday, actually, after you and the girls had left. I was fiddling around with my viola, tuning and running through some of the parts, when I heard a noise in the hallway. I thought you had come back because you forgot something, so I opened the door to let you back in. I looked out just in time to see someone rounding the corner towards the lobby, and I could have sworn I saw a mask and yellow eyes, so I followed, thinking it was you."

Jason swallowed hard, a chill running up his spine as Phil further described the character he saw. "The only difference was he was dressed all in black and had on a hat. You could guess my confusion when I chased it into the lobby and saw that it disappeared. Scared me half to pieces, and I rarely get scared!" Phil leaned forward even more, his voice hushing. "But do you want to know my theory?"

Jason backed away, already having a theory in mind but not quite believing it himself. It just could not be possible.

Phil smirked as he held a hand next to his mouth "I think it's…"

"_C'est la Fantôme__!_"

A shrill scream broke off Phil's sentence, causing both men to jump to their feet and swing their heads towards the door. Phil was the first to act, leaping across the messy room and flinging open the door to reveal the hallway beyond. Jason, his face blanching at what he thought he heard, was close behind as they peered into the hall and towards the lobby where the shouting continued.

"What did she say?" Jason inquired, although he already figured the answer.

"'It's the Phantom,'" Phil confirmed Jason's suspicions as he motioned for him to follow. "_Allez_, we must see what happened."

The pair rushed down the narrow corridor, Phil taking the lead while Jason struggled to keep up with his returning exhaustion. The commotion was becoming louder as they drew closer to their destination, the screaming having evolved into sobbing as they rounded the turn and slid to a halt in the lobby. A group of people had gathered around a young woman, along with her husband and two young children, who also seemed to be crying, but not for the same reason as their mother. They all appeared to be visitors.

"Why is Mummy crying?" The tearful little boy, who look to be about four, asked his father in French as he held tightly onto his older sister's hand.

"I don't know," the man was at a complete loss as his cradled his traumatized wife. "_Ma __chère_, what did you see? Please tell me!"

It took the woman a moment or two to compose herself and wipe at her tears as Phil and Jason approached the crowd, standing on their toes and craning their necks to see what was going on.

"T-there was a…a man," she quivered, pointing a shaky finger towards the entrance to another hallway not far away, "over there. I-I thought he was an employee or…or a performer or something. But…but then he looked, no…he _glared_ at me, and…and…he _disappeared!_" The woman became hysterical again, obviously not in possession of a strong conscience.

Jason looked towards the same hallway to which the woman pointed, seeing nothing, but at the same time searching it with question. He then turned to Phil, who only gave a shake of the head and turned to head back to his office. Jason began to follow, giving one last glance at the crowd. Suddenly, the woman began to scream again, this time pointing in a different direction. Jason turned to look again and saw her eyes wide with horror, this time trained in his direction.

"There!" she wailed, jutting her finger at Jason, who stood stock still. "There he is!"

Jason open and closed his mouth, searching for something to say as the crowd had turned to gawk in his direction. Jason flinched as he felt an arm snake around his shoulder, turning to see that Phil had returned to the scene.

"Now, now," Phil soothed the crowd. "My friend Jason could not have done what you are accusing him of…"

"But she says she saw him!" a voice piped up, earning a few murmurs of agreement from the others.

Phil shook his head. "Impossible. He was with me the whole time," he motioned towards the office corridor on the opposite side, "down in my office. We were writing music for the up and coming ballet for the academy, so he could not have been out here."

A few more murmurs, and the crowd began to disperse, unwilling to continue to take part in the controversial situation. Only the family and a couple of employees remained, the latter of which helped the woman towards the door and outside. The children stared at Jason the entire time; their large, fearful eyes never left his as they followed their parents out the front door. Jason's heart sank at the sight as Phil removed his hand from his shoulder and sighed.

"Heh. Well then..." Phil offered an apologetic smile and patted Jason's back as he continued to stare at where the family had exited the building. "I think we should get back to my office, yes? There is work to be done."

But Jason did not budge. Instead, he peeled his eyes away from the door to gaze at Phil, whose cheesy grin dropped when he saw his friend's expression.

"Did you see the way she…looked at me?" Jason mumbled. "And the children…"

"Now, now, do not worry." Phil began leading Jason by the arm back towards his office. "Us French can overreact to the slightest things sometimes. I'm not saying that _I_ am like that, but many are, you know?" His grin was more forced than the last. "This was only one incident. Perhaps we begin work again and this will all blow over. What do you say?"

Jason nodded absently. He hoped Phil was right.

"So how was your day?" Erin smiled as she greeted Jason with a hug. Celine followed her through the doors of the Opera, her face scrunched up as she dug into her purse in search of something.

"It was…eventful." His fluorescent eyes gazed back at the vacant hallway, the place in which the so-called 'Phantom' had appeared. Jason was curious as to what these people – including Phil – had been seeing lately, and why it seemed that everything had started around the time he arrived in Paris. Could it be that the Opera Ghost – in other words, Erik – was still hanging around the building? Jason did not believe in the supernatural, but it was the only theory that stuck out in his mind and kept nagging him.

Soft fingers met with his jaw line and gently turned his face to meet a pair of dark eyes. Erin raised her eyebrows in curiosity. "Eventful as in…?"

Jason sighed, one side of his mouth pulling up into a half smile while his hand found where Erin's rested on his cheek. "I'll tell you about it later. Right now, I think we should get going."

"Found it!" Celine exclaimed, waving a pack of gum in the air that she had retrieved from her messy bag. Erin giggled and shook her head.

"No need, Celine," she said. "We're out of the car. I feel fine now."

The couple laughed at the pouty-faced tour guide, who pulled a piece of gum out for herself and shoved the remaining back into the jungle that was the contents of her purse. Erin then turned back to her husband.

"I agree," she grabbed his hand and began leading them out. "And I think we should pick something up on the way back to the hotel. I'm _starved!_"

Jason smiled as Erin clenched her stomach for effect, glancing over his shoulder just as the trio stepped through the doors. For the split second, he could have sworn he saw a shadow at the top of the grand staircase, staring straight at them as they left.


End file.
